I am Geli: How the Peace Corps Changed Me

When I first moved to my little town in Panama, the community came together to pick a Ngöbe name for me.  After some debate, a name was finally chosen and I became "Geli Quigavo" for the two years I lived in the village.  Although it took a little getting used to, before long I was easily introducing myself by my new name and even began to identify as "Geli" just as much as I had ever identified by my given name, "Abby."

When I left my site for the very last time,  I almost cried when one of my best friends, Virginia, said to me, "Now you won't be Geli anymore, will you?"  At the time, all I could think about was how much I was losing by leaving this way of life and these people who I had come to view as family. 

I was so excited to finally be going home and starting the next chapter of my life, but I was brokenhearted at the thought of everything-and everyone- that I was leaving behind... including Geli. 

However, the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that while she's partially right in that I will no longer hear that name called out to me, I will always be Geli Quigavo.

Geli is strong, both mentally and physically.  She's not afraid of hard work, and is not above any type of manual labor (though if we're honest, she's probably always going to be happier in the kitchen).  

She knows the value of community, and devotes time to building hers up.  

Geli knows that strangers are just friends you haven't met yet, and that relationships are built on asking people about their lives and genuinely caring what they have to say.  She understands the value in putting herself out there in order to start those relationships, and that a few minutes of awkwardness is well worth the friendships that can come from introducing yourself and starting a conversation.  

Geli loves to travel, but she knows that every town is someone's home, and has learned that just getting to know people and spending time with them (especially when cooking/food is involved) is just as good, if not better, than visiting any tourist attraction.

Geli thinks about the future and makes plans, but she knows that life happens.  When last minute changes pop up, whether it be a roadblock stopping your bus or being asked to lead a workshop starting right now, she'll make it work.  She knows that little things are just that- little things, and if you can't change them, they're no use stressing about.  

I became Geli when I lived in my rural Panamanian village, but I'm not leaving her there.  As Geli, I became a stronger, kinder, and better person.  I learned important lessons that will stay with me for the rest of my life, and now whenever a new friend asks my name and my story, I will tell them about Geli and the people that have built her into me.  

Saying Goodbye

“All good things must come to an end, but I wouldn’t have wanted it to end any other way or with any other people.”

Just about a month ago I left my site for the last time, and man, it was rough.  I had been so busy thinking about and planning for my upcoming cross-country move that I had spent very little time dwelling on my looming departure or preparing for a going away party.  Having heard numerous disappointing accounts of despedidas (going away parties) going wrong, I had very little expectations for anything my gente might put together. 

And honestly, I was okay with that. 

So I was moved to tears (nearing sobs, if we´re being honest) when various community members organized not one, but two events to show me how much my two years had meant to them.  My actual despedida was an official party organized by one of the teachers in our little school.  Like me, she´s not from the village and her family lives about 12 hours away, so she understood more than most what I was going through when I went through feelings of loneliness and isolation. 

Each family in the community contributed $5 (almost a whole day´s wages) in order to provide a community lunch and gifts for me.  They decorated our community pavilion and then, one by one, they stood up and shared with me their favorite memories and their thanks for how much Peace Corps has done for the community and how much they would miss me.  Many of the families even made me extra gifts like hand-crocheted bags, jewelry, and hair accessories.  When it was finally my turn to speak, I blinked back tears and tried to focus on the speech that I had been practicing for the last week. 

Despite my best intentions, I only made it through a few sentences.  Later on in the day I mentioned to someone how frustrated I was that I hadn´t been able to share all of the thoughts, feelings, and memories that I had wanted to.  In response, she told me, “I understand.  But Geli, what you couldn´t say with your mouth, you said with your eyes.”

The despedida finished after lunch, and after a community photo shoot I spent the afternoon visiting as many families as I could, knowing this would be my last chance to say goodbye. 

After dinner with some neighbors, I planned to have my final meeting to make coffee on our new eco-stove and answer any last questions the community members may have had abou the project.  I expected there to be a handful of people who would spend 20 or 30 minutes with me but was surprised by a second despedida!

More than 40 people- men, women, children, and teenagers- showed up with Johnny cakes (my favorite local coconut bread) and a cake that one of my Baking & Business students had made for me.  After making coffee and enjoying the food, a teenager who I had sent to one of Peace Corps´ youth camps suggested that anyone who had not been able to attend the earlier despedida take the opportunity to share memories and thanks.  “But first,” he said, “everyone should turn off their flashlights so that everyone can cry and nobody will feel bad about it.”

In two years, I had never once seen anyone in the village cry, so seeing such strong emotions prompted by my departure meant more to me than I could even begin to describe in a blog post. 

Not having access to electricity, people generally go to bed quite early in my town, but on that night my neighbors and I stayed up together until almost 1 am, after a while not really saying much but also not wanting to end the night, and thus, my two years in the village.  Almost painfully, I finally made it back to my house where I finished packing up my things and tucked myself into my hammock one last time. 

As my favorite taxi driver picked Massy and I up at 6 am the next morning, I said final goodbyes to one of my favorite families who had gotten up extra early to see me off.  They prayed for me and I promised that I would call as soon as I arrived safe in my new house, knowing that it would be a long time before it becomes a home like the one I was now leaving behind.   

Even Rolando, my sweet taxi driver, shared in the goodbyes.  “The town may have other Peace Corps volunteers,” he said, “but there will always be only one Geli.” 

"We will miss you a lot.  We will remember you forever.  Thank you for everything you have given us, and may God bless you forever."

Peace Corps and "Putting Your Life on Hold"

Though I’ve pretty much heard the full range of comments- negative to positive- about joining the Peace corps, a particular one has stuck with me: “It’s so nice that young people like you are willing to put your life on hold for 2 years to join the Peace Corps.”  Every time I’ve heard it, it’s been from well-meaning friends and acquaintances, but since actually experiencing what Peace Corps is, my automatic reaction to these people is to tell them that they’re wrong. 

As I’ve previously written, two years is a long time no matter where you are or what you’re doing.  So when you take into consideration the distance from the known (friends, family, American culture, etc.) as well as the stereotypical Peace Corps conditions of hardship and cultural displacement, I can see how many people would arrive at the conclusion that two years spent as a Peace Corps volunteer is two years of life put on hold. 

However, to those people I ask, what is life to you?  If life is accumulating wealth, living in close proximity to almost any amenity or material good you may desire, or having a corporate-climbing job, then yes, volunteers put their lives on hold. 

It’s only when you’re to look outside the box of a typical American life that you can understand why that statement is wrong.  If to you, life is having a fulfilling career, constantly learning, living around people who love you, and having the opportunity to truly experience a culture different then your own, then Peace Corps service would simply be two more years of living a fun and fulfilling life. 

Of course, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t days where I crave comforts of home and the “life” I left behind.  I miss dressing up for work, running errands in my own car, eating nice food, and not being the most educated person in my town.  Sometimes I love teaching simple business charlas, but sometimes it’s hard not to think about my friends back home working on fancy (to me) advertising campaigns or getting that next promotion. So on hard days in Panama, I too fall into the trap of thinking only of what I’ve left behind, and forgetting all that I’ve gained. 

However, as my two-year commitment was coming to a close and I began to seriously consider my next steps, both personally and professionally, the incredible time I’ve spent as a Peace Corps volunteer really came to light.  These two years, though at times long, hard, and uncomfortable, have been two of the best and most formative years of my life.  I've had all of the sterotypical Peace Corps experiences such as traveling, teaching kids English, and enjoying bastante hammock time, but I've also been able to experience first hand that Peace Corps is so much more than that.  I've added some seriously awesome points to my résumé and had some of the coolest experiences I could have imagined (hiking through the Darién rainforest with an indigenous guide?  It was pretty fun).  On top of all of that, I've made incredible connections, lifelong friendships, and precious memories.  

So, that’s the main reason I’ve decided to stay a third year- because for me Peace Corps hasn’t been “putting my life on hold,” but instead living life to the fullest.  

2 Years in the Peace Corps

Two years.  24 months. 104 weeks. 730 days... And that's not counting the 2-3 months on on-site training. 

The potentially daunting time commitment is what puts many people off of Peace Corps service, so it makes sense that one of the most common questions I’m asked is, “What is two years in the Peace Corps really like?”

Since this week marks two years in Panama for me, I figured that it's finally a good time to put it into words.

In two years, your friends back home will pass many of life’s milestones: getting engaged, married, and having babies.  Some will get fancy-sounding promotions and begin (or continue) climbing the corporate ladder.  You, on the other hand, will celebrate small successes like actually getting people to come to the event you’ve spent weeks planning, convincing village members that no, you don’t want to get married yet and that’s okay, and will have a different type of milestone: the number of months you can spend parasite free. 

New technologies will be invented (You won’t know how to use them), new movies will be released (You only know them by their foreign titles), and the billboard top 100 will constantly be refreshed by new music (If you’ve had some time in the capital city, you may have heard of about 10 of them). 

You may struggle to stay in contact with all of your American friends and begin to drift apart from some of them.  You will bond with Peace Corps friends over frustrations only they can understand and who pooped their pants first.  Both groups of friends will remain precious and important to you. 

In two years you will never stop learning.  You will learn a new language (or two), a new culture, and how to work in this new, very different environment.  Like a child, you will relearn simple skills like how to take care of yourself without the amenities or products you’re used to.  You might begin washing clothes by hand, group bathing (fully clothed) in the creek, and/or cooking without a microwave.

You’ll make yourself a home in a place that once felt so foreign, and then bring little bits of your old home to your new one.  Your American headlamp will illuminate your locally made table as you try new foods and stay up late reading in English (for entertainment) or your new language (for learning). 

Two years is a good amount of time to explore a new place, but you'll still feel rushed to do all of the things you had in mind when you came to country.  You will become familiar with your local town and surrounding areas, and many people may even recognize you.  Eventually they will make the change from “Mira, gringa!” to chatting with you about Peace Corps and why you wanted to spend two years with them. 

Two years is too long and too short.  Some days I literally count the days until it’s time to leave, while on many others I’m appalled that a full two years has come and gone.  I feel like I’ve just hit the sweet spot in trust built with community members, confidence in the local language and work projects.  

Two years is up?  Finally.  Two years is up?  I think I may extend.

Meet the Gente

I’ve spent almost two years blogging about my experience in Panama, and I realized that I’ve yet to dedicate a blog post to all of the people that have made my experience what it is.  So with this post, I want to introduce you to some of the people that live in my little corner of Panama- my gente. 

Diana

Diana is a wife and mother of three beautiful, talented, and smart girls.  Her oldest two have won the award for being at the top of their class each year, and it’s not hard to see who they get their drive from.  Serving as the Treasurer for our town’s agricultural group, Diana is a community leader in a culture that hasn’t historically valued women in that sense.  When she was one of only two women in a group of 25 to attend a Peace Corps workshop on project management and leadership, another volunteer asked what gave her the encouragement to do so.  Her reply has become one of my favorite Peace Corps anecdotes- she attended a Peace Corps youth leadership camp as a teenager! 

Lirisnel

Lirisnel, or simply “niña,” as she’s usually addressed, is my most frequent visitor and one of Massy’s best friends.  She loves animals, rough-housing with her 3 brothers, and telling me stories that may or may not be true.  For another dose of cuteness from my favorite neighbor, you can see her short cameo in my house tour video.

Lucia

My baking buddy, Lucia, is a mom of three and one of the only women to take what we’ve learned in our baking and business classes and put it to use.  She recently told me that she’s started making the 4-hour round-trip commute to the nearest University each weekend so that she can finish her degree.   As if that didn’t make me proud enough, she finished the story by telling me that the money she earns by selling cakes and cookies to her fellow students pays for her transport each weekend!

Walter and Nereyda

One of my favorite couples in site, Walter and Nereyda are my age and are hardworking and determined to give their two sons a better life.  When they heard that the people I was planning on bringing to an agribusiness seminar dropped out last minute, they made plans to go with me the very next day.  Not only did they actually attend and participate, now they’re always asking me about potential projects and business advice.  When Walter’s not around, I love to joke with Nereyda about how much I don’t know about having a family, and though she laughs at my complete lack of childcare/household running knowledge, she likes to give me advice for my future.   She may be young, but that girl knows what she’s talking about!

Adelaida

As my host family's granddaughter, Adelaida was by my side constantly throughout my first few month in site.  Sometimes she wouldn't even go back home to her own house next door in favor of spending the night with me- after she washed my hair while I was trying to bathe in the creek that is. Though it was occasionally a little trying to never have a moment alone, I came to love Adelaida like a little sister and miss her terribly now that she's moved to another village.  She's visited me a few times though, and we're trying to make plans for me to visit her soon too! 

Chuber

Until a formal ceremony on his second birthday, I didn’t even know that Chuber’s real name is Virgilio.  Definitely more “Chuber” to me, this little guy is about the only other person in site with a sweet tooth to match my own.  Whenever I visit his house his response is always the same: “GELI! Dulce! Tienes dulce?” Which is, “GELI!  Dessert!  Do you have dessert?”

Milsa

Since Milsa spent my first year helping her daughter care for her new baby about an hour away, I didn’t get to know her until what feels like recently.  When I visit her (not often enough, in her opinion) she loves to show me her newest sewing projects and never hesitates to make sure I have plenty to eat.  So, it’s not hard to see why I consider her one of my in-site grandmas.

Abraham

My closest neighbor (and father of Lirisnel, Nata, and Einar) doesn’t visit my house very frequently, but I can count on him stopping by within a few hours of any guest arriving.  Because of him, I’ve been able to see my community in a whole new light; He loves our town and sharing it with other people and never hesitates to offer tours to the various points of interest: waterfalls, pretty views, animal searches… Last week he even took me on a camping trip!

Pedro and Chavela (and family)

As my unofficial in-site grandparents, Pedro and Chavela are happy to sit and chat with me as often as I want to visit.  After apologizing for the lack of tasty food, they usually send one of their sons or grandsons out to chop down a fresh coconut for me to drink- one of my favorite snacks!  As Christian leaders in the community, they’ve taken the time to pray for me (after every visit) and occasionally help me with a Spanish Bible study.  This sweet family even volunteered to host the new volunteer during his/her first few months in site- quite lucky if you ask me!

Virginia

Back when I was a new Peace Corps volunteer, starving for honest friendship and just plain starving in general (I was almost 20 pounds lighter than I am currently… more on that later), Virgina and her sister in law, Veronica, were some of the first people to take me in and really make me feel like I belong here.  Once, when I admitted that I was sad and missing my family, she told all of her children to start referring to me as “Tia,” “Aunt,” and it’s stuck ever since!

Juana and Mauricio

At the very beginning of my service, I was told by a community member that there were a few houses I should not visit because they hold very tightly to their indigenous roots and thus refuse to speak Spanish or engage with outsiders.  Juana and Mauricio were one of those families, and because I trust the person that advised me, I only visited them once until a few weeks ago when their daughter asked me to come and take a family photo for them.  Not expecting much, I expected to take the photo and leave.  Unaware of my prior assumptions, they obviously had to surprise me.  Though my Ngäbere is quite basic, it was better than the few words of Spanish they spoke, so we got by with laughs and tons of hand gestures in which they told me that I should be their granddaughter (from Juana) and that I should be his woman (Mauricio).  The most precious part of the afternoon was watching how they interacted with each other- despite 40+ years of being together, the wife couldn’t get over how good looking her husband was in the photos!

Solomon

My landlord, Solomon, works on the Chiquita banana plantations about 2 hours away from our community and thus only gets to travel home sporadically.  Even on the few days he has off, he’s still working- painting and improving my house and devising his ever-present idea for bringing tourism into our community.  We’re not there yet, and likely years away from that even being a possibility, but for the time being, I’m happy to savor this place as my home and these people as my friends, neighbors, and family. 

The Personal Identity and Double Lives of Peace Corps Volunteers

The chiva driver stops at the top of the gravel trail that leads into my site, I drag my grocery filled backpack off the truck, sit down on the bench to procrastinate the inevitable, and call my dad back home.  It’s not long before the tears start and I dread making the 40-minute hike into a village where I will once again become the only gringa, the only English-speaker, the only woman over 20 without children, and the only person who has experienced more than this little section of Panama. 

A year and a half later, I’ve finally learned to cherish coming home to my tiny, loving community, despite our many differences, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember the anxiety or still occasionally struggle with my personal identity in and out of site. 

In these little bubbles that have been created for us, it seems that many other volunteers experience the same types of struggles with isolation, loneliness, and identity, and I don’t think it’s talked about near enough. 

Even now, I feel like I’m sometimes exhibiting a double life.  In site my people know me as Geli.  This person usually dresses in old clothes and has her hair in a ponytail, goes to bed by 9 pm without fail, makes tons of corny jokes, eats healthy foods, never wears anything shorter than knee length, is known for saving money, and is almost always cheerful.  Then there’s volunteer Abby, the out of site version of me.  She loves looking nice, going to the beach in an actual bathing suit, enjoys sarcastic humor, will eat chocolate at any and every turn, and doesn’t mind spending money to go out with friends or have a nice meal.  Though none of those characteristics are mutually exclusive, the way I exhibit them is. 

Typical Panama me- Casual outfit, no makeup, no fancy hairstyle.  If I'm wearing accessories, they probably make me look like a hippie (local jewelry, large tote bags, a dirty watch, etc.)

Typical United States Me- in a nice outfit with my makeup done, hair curled or straightened, and look completed with multiple accessories.

My people know me and love me.  But they love their version of me, the version that I’ve used to integrate into their culture without causing any more stress or drama than is necessary.  The poor farmers I live with make less than $10 a day, are married with children at an age younger than my little sister, have never traveled more than a few hours from their birthplace, and have only a few sets of clothes- all of them very modest and very plain.  Their lifestyle is so different than the type of life I lead out of site, and for them to see me in normal clothes, shopping for a new digital camera, or spending more on a meal or bottle of wine than they make in a day would drastically alter their perception of who I am, and not in a good way. 

I love my people, and when I’m in site, they’re all I have.  But the relationships you have with others are undoubtedly altered when you feel like you can’t be your whole self with them, and that’s one of the biggest challenges many Peace Corps volunteers will face early in their service.  Some will say that this anxiety is our fault and that only by showing our whole and true selves can we really connect with the people we’re serving. I would encourage these people to come into my site, wearing short shorts or openly talking about how much money they’ve spent on their things, and just see if any of the women will work with you.  For me, that’s not an option. 

This type of struggle isn’t just limited to my site- other volunteers see me so much differently than the type of person I saw myself as when I left the United States.  My friends here have seen me dirty, smelly, sick with a variety of illnesses and/or fungus infections, all while wearing moldy and/or ill-fitting clothes.  High school me would be dying right about now. 

Despite the emotional challenge this dilemma presents, maybe it’s a good thing.  Though I didn’t like having to compartmentalize myself, I am glad that this experience has challenged me physically, mentally, and emotionally, and I am especially happy that it has forced me to change my perception of personal appearance and ask myself which characteristics really make us who we are. 

A typical in-site look = top + bottom (matching is optional) + braid or ponytail.  No makeup or shoes required

Cute hiking/working outfits?  haha, no.  Bottom + top (again, no matching needed) + boots.  Bonus points will be given for being muddy and sweaty. 

Dressed up in site = top + bottom (matching preferred) + braid.  Shoes preferred, but makeup still not required.  

Me in a nagua, a typical Ngäbe dress, which is also the most unflattering piece of clothing I ever plan on owning.

Before Peace Corps, it had been almost 8 years since I routinely went in public without makeup.  This earlier version of me wouldn’t have felt “whole” or put together without all of the surface level things that I thought helped make me the person I was.  

I may have been one of the last people in our training group to quit wearing makeup anytime I left the house or to finally accept that my chiffon skirts and beautiful J.Crew blouses just weren’t meant for the campo, but growing into Geli, my scruffy, fun loving, in-site alter ego, has allowed me to do something that few people ever get to do.  I’ve spent two years being made to feel beautiful, complete, and loved by people who have never even seen me in makeup, nice clothes, or in possession of the fancy things we as Americans seem to value so much.   All of that finally had me questioning- am I really leading a double life as I had previously thought, or have I finally learned what truly makes me, me?

2014

When writing a recap of 2013, I remember thinking that my 2014 was going to be much less eventful. After all, how much can happen when you're living in a rural village of less than 300 people? Though I have loved living a more laid-back life, I'm happy to report that 2014 has been filled with productive work, fun travel, great friends, new experiences, and things that are certainly much funnier now that they're over and done with.  So what happened this year?

In January my dad wrapped up his Panama visit with a NYE party in my site and a trip to Bocas Island.  Then I celebrated another milestone: turning 23 while facilitating a youth leadership camp! For some reason I've always loved working on my birthday and I have to say, camp was a pretty fun assignment for that week.  

With February came In-Service Training (IST) which was a great opportunity to reconnect with other volunteers and see a new part of Panama.  To top it off, the other Bocas volunteers and I received a whole week's worth of chocolate training.  Tough job, right? 

I spent most of March in my site, working with my gente and recovering from the double serving of parasites I dealt with the month before.  Only in Peace Corps would you respond to "I have parasites," with, "Oh, good!"

April was a busy month- I improved my Ngäbere skills at indigenous language week in the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé, my town started our baking and business group, Travis, Christina, and I celebrated Easter with quite the feast, and Massy and I adopted a cat.

I especially looked forward to May because that meant I got to go on vacation to the United States! Eleven months is a long time to be away from home, and I admit that I may have slightly teared up when the border control agent welcomed me home to the United States of America.

June marked a full year in Panama for Group 73.  Though I spent most of the month in-site, I also got to head to Panama City to meet group 75 and help out with their first week of training.  Especially given the timing, it was really neat to see the new group going through exactly the same things that I did one year before! 

July was a month of visits and visitors!  I finally got to visit Zoe's site on the coast and was able to start a baking and business group while I was there.  It was neat to see my projects spread to other areas, and as always, it was wonderful to spend time with my friends in their sites.  Shortly after returning to my own site, I welcomed Whitney and Megan, two trainees from the new group. I got to show them the ropes of life as a volunteer and am happy to report that they're both alive and well- Whitney ended up in Bocas like me, and Megan is in a coffee site in Colón.  To top off an already great month, my bien metida Darien friend, Alex, also made the long journey up to Bocas.  We spent the week visiting cool places in my site and eating so. much. chocolate.  

In August I celebrated one year of being in sites by spending most of the month with my sweet gente. They make coming home that much better!  

Massy always makes leaving difficult, and in September I finally relented and decided to take him along when I gave a basic finance seminar at Colleen's site on the coast.  He loved it and it turned out to be good travel practice for our upcoming move.  Another neat thing that happened this month was being invited to bring one of my local artisan's to Panama City to exhibit our goods during the Central/South America Country Director's Conference.  Many "higher ups" of Peace Corps were present, and I even got to meet the incredibly sweet Director herself, Carrie Hessler-Radlet!

October... October was good at first. Elena and I were invited to give a week-long agribusiness seminar to micro-finance grant recipients from the Department of Agriculture in Santiago, Veraguas. We had a great week with great participants, and by the end some of them were even asking how they could get their own Peace Corps volunteer!  Unfortunately, I got sick towards the end of the week and got slammed by a Pneumonia, a skin infection, parasites (round 3), AND a double ear infection all within a month.  That's a new record for me.  

After finally recovering from all the issues from late October/early November, I was able to attend two great Thanksgiving celebrations.  I love spending time with volunteers because the further we get in our service, the more connected we are- professionally and emotionally.  Volunteers have become some of my closest friends and confidants, and I am so thankful to have such a great group of them in my life!  

In December I packed my bags (or rather, left them packed) and headed over to explore the Darien. I had been wanting to see that side of the country for quite a while, so I was really excited to have the opportunity to spend the week both working on projects and hanging out with the awesome volunteers that live there.  And who knew the people there feed you so much?!  In 2015 I'll be heading out to Darien again, this time for a little bit longer, and I'm looking forward to getting to know more people and places (and also to eat some more delicious food...)

Thank you to all of my family, friends, and sweet blog supporters!  You guys make the tough days bearable and the great days even greater.  I couldn't have done it without you and am looking forward to 2015 and all the new people, places, and experiences that the new year will bring!

Missing Out: When Life Abroad Interferes with Life Back Home

Since moving abroad to start my new job as a Peace Corps Volunteer a year and a half ago, I’ve become well-acquainted with what some travelers refer to as FOMO- Fear of missing out.  It seems a little bit contradictory: I moved abroad to avoid missing out on a fulfilled, adventurous life doing work that matters for people I love, but here I am feeling like I’m missing out? 

If you’ve ever lived abroad, for any period of time, I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from, but if not, I’m going to try and put it into words as best as I can.

I love where I’m from in the United States.  In both Knoxville and Pittsburgh (and a few other places throughout the country) I have wonderful, supportive friends and family who I love and enjoy being with.  In Panama I have a great job that lets me learn, explore, and put my skills to use in a great way.  Geographically speaking though, I physically can’t have both at the same time.

Choosing to live abroad- or any place far from home- means that you’re going to have to give up things and experiences you’d otherwise have been happy to have.  Sure, sometimes I miss physical things or places, but the thing that makes living abroad the hardest for me is knowing that I can’t be with the people I love all the times I’d love to be. 

Going home is always an option, but it comes at a price.  Depending on distance and cost, every expat draws his or her lines at different points, but it’s never easy.  Would I love to be home for every birthday, graduation and important event?  Absolutely.  If travel weren’t an issue, I’d be there in a heartbeat.  Unfortunately, that’s not possible. 

And that’s where FOMO sets in.  Today my family is throwing a giant party for my grandma’s 90^th birthday, in November my little sister is turning 21, and don’t even get me started on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and all the little things that make life and relationships what they are. 

When I do have internet, I love catching up on my family and friends’ lives back home.  Some are in new relationships, others have new jobs, and even if nothing huge has changed, their lives are continuing in a beautiful way.  Simultaneously, I love and hate facebook, instagram, twitter, and every other media outlet that shows me glimpses of what I’m missing. 

I’m trying to have as much of both worlds as best as I can, but that’s certainly a challenge.  I try to talk with loved ones back home as much as I can, and the ones I’m truly close to try just as hard (if not harder!) to keep me in the loop with their lives as they learn about mine. 

We’re living completely different lives nearly 2,000 miles apart, but that’s what helps me keep my fear of missing out in check- friends and family who care enough to support me where I’m at for now.